Out of Sight, Out of Psych?
by Ananse
Summary: Shawn Spencer has solved many crimes with a cool, calm demeanor and without breaking a sweat. But his next case is about to get much more personal. Someone has been kidnapped, and it's not just another anonymous victim to Shawn. Can he crack the mystery?
1. An Unwelcome Visit

A/N: Obviously this is still a work in progress, and will definitely be much longer than my first fic (probably 10+ chapters, we'll see how it goes). I'll make sure to update the chapters regularly. Enjoy!

Disclaimer- I do not own Psych.

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**Out of Sight, Out of Psych?**

_**Chapter One: An Unwelcome Visit**_

"Shawn, I don't care what you say, we are NOT doing that! Don't act like I've forgotten what happened before!"

Shawn Spencer spread his palms in exasperation. "Gus, please, are you still hung up on that? It was over twenty years ago! We are now much smarter, much more experienced, and our physical coordination has made incredible strides, especially once we got past that whole awkward puberty thing!"

"I do NOT care Shawn! No matter what you say, I am never, ever, driving a go-kart blindfolded ever again!" Gus crossed his arms and snapped his head away, refusing to make eye contact with his best friend as they continued to stroll down the sidewalk.

"Gus, please, let's think this through for a minute. First of all, your birthday is next week, and since you've already ruled out the Mexican border and base jumping, this is the only remotely exciting thing left that we could do. Secondly, I distinctly remember you screaming about how much fun you were having before that little crash..."

"Little crash!?" Gus snapped his head back around. "Shawn, I collided head on with the side rail! I nearly flipped the kart!"

"Oh Gus, don't be such a twitchy tortoise. It was just three broken fingers!"

"More than that Shawn! I dislocated two toes and got a major contusion in my elbow!"

Shawn sighed and took another bite from the box of chicken dumplings the two of them were taking back to the Psych office. It had been several weeks since their fake psychic detective agency had got any cases, so the past few days Shawn and Gus had fallen into a routine of running out to various sandwich shops, taco stands, and Chinese restaurants for extended lunches. The walk there was usually peppered with arguments about where they were going to eat, and the walk back filled with disputes about some other inane topic. Today, the squabble of choice was over Gus' impending birthday celebration.

"Ya know what Gus? If you want to just shoot down my awesome ideas like so many clay pigeons, fine. You can spend your birthday staying in and watching your special director's cut of the fourth _Bring It On_ movie."

Gus shot him a sideways glare while rummaging through his lo mein with a pair of chopsticks. "You know Shawn, maybe instead of heckling my taste in movies, you should be focusing on our income. We haven't had a case in almost a month. If you don't go find us a case, we're going to have to cut back on our budget."

"Cut back on the budget? But Gus, everything we have is essential!"

"Our plasma screen HD television is essential?"

Shawn gasped and brought a hand to his chest. "Gus! How dare you question the necessity of our TV! What would we watch _America's Next Top Model _on?"

The bickering continued between the two business partners all the way back to their base of operations. The squat little building was, as Shawn called it, "the place where all the magic happens." Gus referred to it as "the mysterious black hole in my bank account." However, as they approached the Psych office, they noticed something unusual. There were several police cars out front, and by squinting his eyes, Shawn could discern a few uniformed figures mulling around inside the police station.

Gus turned quickly, his eyes wide. "Shawn, what did you do?"

"Oh, Gus, are you serious? I mean really, your knee-jerk reaction is to ask me what I did? Maybe I haven't done anything, how about that?"

"Oh, you're right Shawn. Our place is crawling with cops because they're just dropping in to say hello!"

"And why not? I tend to think we're very popular people."

Gus stared right at Shawn with an unblinking, piercing gaze. Shawn stared right back, trying not to break a sweat or even twitch. "Shawn. What. Did. You. Do."

Shawn glanced off into into the distance, casually scratching the back of his neck. "Okay, well, let's just say that I _might _have left a little present in Lassie's desk."

"A present? What kind of present? Like a pineapple?"

"No, like...like something you might find in the barn across from the pineapples farm. Something a little more, shall we say, odorous?"

Gus gaped at him. "SHAWN!"

"Oh come on Gus, there's no way they could trace it back to me."

"Who else would have the nerve to leave manure in Lassiter's desk!?"

Shawn paused and shrugged. "Well, now he has fertilizer. So now he can grow his own pineapples! It's a win-win!"

Gus looked flabbergasted. "Okay, well, let's just get out of here, maybe they haven't seen..."

"SPENCER!"

Gus and Shawn looked up to see Lassiter framed in the doorway to the office. "Should we run?" Shawn whispered under his breath.

"Shawn, we can't run from the police! We _work_ for the police!"

Lassiter stepped down and looked from Gus to Shawn. The duo smiled weakly, trying to look innocent. As the detective pulled off his sunglasses, Shawn was expecting to see Lassiter's typical eyes of fury. But to his surprise, he saw a much softer look. One of...concern?

"You boys better come inside."

Shawn and Gus exchanged quick glances and then followed Lassiter into the building. Their headquarters now contained several police officers poking around the room, looking for...something. Juliet was standing in a corner, and bit her lip a little as Shawn and Gus walked in. The same look of concern Lassiter had worn was now painted across her face.

And in the middle of all the commotion stood the Santa Barbara Interim Police Chief, Karen Vick. Shawn tried to mask his surprise. If the chief needed his services, she would call the office, or have Juliet call. She had never dropped by in person before.

The chief stepped forward, her lips pressed tightly together. She glanced down quickly at the ground before looking back up at Shawn and Gus. "Mr. Spencer, I'm afraid I have some...regrettable news."

Shawn felt a strange, nervous feeling creeping up his spine from the way Vick looked at him. He tried to think of a witty remark, but all that managed to escape his mouth was a meek "What?"

Vick frowned and took a deep breath. "Mr. Spencer, it's your father..."

_Dad?_ Shawn thought with a slight shudder.

"He's gone missing...and we have reason to believe he was kidnapped."

**To be continued...**


	2. Unknown Demands

A/N: So here's chapter two, chapter three is almost done and will be coming up very soon.

Disclaimer- I still do not own Psych.

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**Out of Sight, Out of Psych?**

_**Chapter Two: Unknown Demands**_

Shawn was floored. He felt his stomach drop like it had been cut loose from his body. He stumbled back a bit, reached behind himself, and managed to grab a chair. He eased himself into a sitting position and looked blankly ahead at the wall.

"He was...kidnapped?"

The chief nodded, her face grim. "A letter was sent to the station, addressed to Detective Lassiter, containing a very serious message. It stated that the author of the note had taken Henry Spencer and would hold him captive until the kidnapper got...well, we're not sure yet."

Shawn looked up at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

The chief pulled a plastic evidence bag out of her jacket and handed it to Shawn. "See for yourself, Mr. Spencer."

Shawn reached out and took the bag, which contained a type-written letter. He held it in his fingers, his hands trembling a little, as he peered through the shiny plastic to read the typewritten words of the kidnapper:

_READ THIS CAREFULLY!_

_Everything I say is true, and if you fail to take me seriously, there will be consequences!_

_I have kidnapped Henry Spencer. If you do not believe me, go search his home. You will not find him. _

_I warn you that he is in grave danger._

_If the Santa Barbara Police Department does not wish to lose one of its former officers, you will use every possible resource to find him._

_I will only let him live if I get exactly what I want._

Shawn read over it several times, confused. "I don't get it. The guy never says what he wants. How the hell can we give him exactly what he wants when he doesn't even say what that is?"

"We've been trying to figure out the same thing, Mr. Spencer. But it appears the kidnapper has left behind nothing except for this letter."

Gus, who had been leaning over Shawn's shoulder to read the note, suddenly spoke up. "Was there anything else on the letter? Any fingerprints, maybe some DNA?"

Shawn glanced back in disbelief. "Yes Gus, the kidnapper took some time to drool on his demands right before he sent them."

"Maybe not drool on it, but he might have licked the envelope to seal it shut," Gus shot back.

Vick nodded. "We looked into that, but the envelope was self-sealed. No trace of DNA. No fingerprints. As you can see, the note was typed, as was the writing on the envelope, so there is no handwriting to analyze. However, there was something unusual. The kidnapper did something that I have never seen in all my years of law enforcement on an envelope with a ransom note inside: leave a return address."

Shawn's eyes snapped to attention. "Really?"

The chief paused, looking nervous. "I'm afraid it's not much of a lead Mr. Spencer. The return address was your father's house. The postmark from two days ago confirms it."

Shawn went silent. He pulled himself up out of the chair and started to pace. "So is it...a message? This guy just waltzed into my Dad's house and kidnapped him?" Even as Shawn said it, he could not help but think that it made no sense. His father was a cop! How could anybody, even the baddest criminals around, snatch Henry Spencer right out of his own home?

Lassiter stepped forward, speaking for the first time since they had all gathered inside. "We've combed the house already, but we couldn't find anything. We're now canvassing the neighborhood, along with any other places that he might have been recently, including this building. So far, we can't find anyone who has sighted him in the past two days."

Shawn nodded. "And the letter was postmarked two days ago," he muttered as he chewed his lip. A million thoughts and ideas were running through his mind. Who would want to do this?

Suddenly, he clapped his hands and looked up. "Alright, let's go then!"

Vick gave him an odd look. "Let's go where?"

"To my Dad's house! I need to get in, look for...psychically read the place, and we'll nab the guy. Let's go!"

Vick and Lassiter exchanged a look of concern. Lassiter started to speak, but the chief cut him off by raising a hand, and then used her own words. "Mr. Spencer, we feel it is best that you don't get involved in this case."

Shawn's mouth dropped. He tried to say something, but he felt a lump in his throat gagging him. Gus, however, jumped right in.

"How can you not let him help!? This is his father!"

Turning to Gus with a frown, Vick sighed and said "I understand that. Having worked with Henry for several years, believe me when I say that I want nothing more than a safe and quick resolution to this matter. However, we feel Mr. Spencer may be too close to this case to...conduct himself effectively."

"Chief, come on! I'm a psychic! My...powers...work in any situation!"

"I know you disagree Mr. Spencer, but my decision has already been made. We're finishing up the search of your office for possible evidence, and we should be out of your hair in just a few minutes. I'll make sure that Lassiter and O'Hara keep you updated if we make a major break, and we will contact you if there's any information we need."

Shawn stood, rigid, glaring at the chief. The finality in her tone had been absolute. He knew he would never convince her otherwise. Instead, he grabbed Gus by the arm and dragged him out of the office.

"Hey!...Shawn!...What are you doing?" Gus stammered as he struggled to break away from Shawn's vicious grip.

Shawn let him go and turned back to face the door. They were standing once again on the sidewalk outside the building, watching as policemen started to file out and back towards their squad cars. "Gus, I'm not getting shut out of this investigation. We're getting that case file, we're getting into that house, and we're catching this creep!"

"Shawn, I hate to say it, but I don't think you have a choice! The chief was pretty clear."

"You're right Gus, the _chief _was very clear. But I know another little birdie that I can get to sing very pretty music." Shawn pointed at the door. "Wait for it." A few seconds later, Lassiter came strolling out.

"Are you nuts? There's no way he'll help us!"

Shawn winced. "Okay, you're right, there's absolutely no chance he'll help us. I kind of thought someone else would walk out." He pointed at the door again. "Keep waiting for it." Moments later, Buzz McNabb came out.

"McNabb? I guess he might..."

Shawn cursed under his breath. "Don't these cops have any sense of dramatic timing?" He pointed in frustration. "Okay, here we go, third time's the charm." Another officer exited the building.

"We don't even know that guy's name!"

"Damn it!" Shawn said, a little louder than he wanted to. A few officers turned around. "It's Juliet, okay?" he quietly hissed to Gus. "I'm going to get Juliet to help us."

As soon as he said this, Juliet O'Hara strode out the door and headed for one of the squad cars.

"See? Now, would it have killed her to walk out just a couple minutes ago?"

_**To be continued...**_


	3. Hear Me Out, O'Hara

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! It really is great motivation, and I'm glad you all take the time to share your thoughts. Hope you continue to read! I am just now starting on chapter four, so keep an eye out for it!

Disclaimer- Despite my best efforts, I don't own Psych.

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**Out of Sight, Out of Psych?**

_**Chapter Three: Hear Me Out, O'Hara**_

Detective Juliet O'Hara walked into the diner where Shawn had asked to meet her over the phone. She spotted him at a table across the room, and he grinned while giving her a playful wave. She did not smile back. Instead, she glanced around, still nervous about the possible repercussions of the chief discovering that Juliet was secretly meeting with someone who was not supposed to be involved in the investigation. She quickly made her way across the room and slid into the seat across from Shawn.

"You look a little jumpy there Jules," Shawn said with a smirk. "Relax. Have a juice."

Juliet raised an eyebrow at him. "Shawn, don't act like this is some kind of polite get-together. I know why you wanted to meet me, I know you want to be in on your Dad's case, and you already know what I'm going to say."

"That I have spectacular hair?"

Juliet frowned and just shook her head, not saying a word. Shawn's smirk faded away, and a more serious look replaced it. "Look, Jules, I'm not asking you as a coworker. I'm asking you as a friend. Please."

She bit her tongue hard and shook her head again.

"Juliet..." Shawn reached out and touched the top of her hand, his fingertips just barely brushing over her wrist. Surprised, she nearly pulled back, but stayed still. A nervous shiver went up her arm. "If it was _your_ father, or one of your brothers, and you knew that you could help him but the chief wouldn't let you, are you telling me you would just stand on the sidelines?"

"Shawn, I'm a _cop_, I'm _trained_, I..."

"So you're saying you don't trust me to get the job done?"

Juliet looked up into his eyes. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, like she was trying to speak, but nothing was coming out. Shawn leaned in, his face just a few inches from hers. "He's _my_ Dad, it's _my _life, and it's _my _responsibility to make things right."

She glanced down at the table, brought her eyes back up to him, and sighed...

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Shawn stood in the middle of his father's living room, his eyes scanning the walls. Juliet had gotten him and Gus through the police tape and was now standing guard outside the front door, in case Lassiter decided to drop back in for a second look at the scene. Shawn wandered around the room, looking at Henry Spencer's various fishing models, knick-knacks, and trophies. Gus was poking around the couch.

"Did Juliet show you the police file?"

Shawn nodded, his eyes now scanning the carpet for anything unusual. "Yeah, and unfortunately for us, they don't have squat. The last person to see my father was the cashier at that sporting goods shop where he buys all his lures. That was the day before the kidnapper's letter was mailed...apparently from here." Shawn spread out his arms, frustrated. "Other than that, Lassiter and his team of geniuses haven't turned up a damn thing. No suspects, no leads, and no Dad." Shawn let his hands drop to his sides and he snorted in disgust. "I can't believe the chief had the nerve to try and keep me off of this! All of those jokers are just spinning there wheels, they need someone who can _do _something!"

"Hey, relax Shawn! Let's just try to find something, alright?"

Shawn scrunched his forehead and pressed his palms against his temples. "Right, right, okay...find something..." He looked around the room for what felt like the hundredth time. The problem was, even though he refused to admit it, there was nothing to find. It was no real surprise that Lassiter had failed to turn up anything, because other than the lack of an occupant, Henry's house seemed untouched. His truck was still in the driveway, all his tools still in the garage...nothing was wrong and everything was wrong at the same time.

"Was there anything different your father was doing before he disappeared?" Gus asked, now bending down to peer under the sofa. "Was he dating someone, or taking up some new hobby?"

"I..." Shawn hesitated. "I don't really know, Gus. I mean, it's not like we were two perfect peppy peas in a pod. When we were on good terms, things were strained, and on bad terms...well, on bad terms I avoided the man like a fresh cow pie." Shawn stepped in front of a framed picture hanging a little crooked on the wall. The picture was of him and his father when Shawn was eight years old. In the photo, Shawn was attempting to balance himself on a bike for the first time, while his father stood behind him, offering instruction.

"When was the last time you talked to him?"

"We had dinner last week. Chatted about the usual stuff: fishing, cases, my eternal disappointment as a son and my ultimately aimless path to shame." Shawn paused to straighten the picture.

Gus gave him a sideways glance. "Shawn, I know he gives you a hard time, but you need to let some of it go. Your father says some rough stuff, but he still..."

"There's something wrong with this picture," Shawn said, deliberately cutting off Gus to stop the conversation he knew was coming. He pushed lightly against the frame with his fingertips, but the back of the photo did not press flat against the wall. "There's some kind of bumpy thing behind it." He quickly gripped the sides of the frame and lifted the photo off the wall. "Aha!"

The picture was concealing a safe, embedded into the wall. The "bumpy thing" in the wall was the bulge from the combination lock.

Seeing the safe, Gus hurried to Shawn's side, his eyes wide. "This looks like an old PrimaLox 150! These were discontinued almost five years ago! Shawn, I'm pretty sure I can get past it. There was an article about these last month in the Safe Cracker's Digest. All I need is a knife, pliers, dental floss, some mayonnaise..."

Shawn abruptly reached forward, gave the combo lock a few quick spins, and the safe popped open. Gus gaped like he had been smacked in the face.

"Oh come on, Gus. Dad uses his badge number for his password to _everything. _It's really quite reckless, he's leaving himself wide open to identity theft." Shawn turned to see the disappointment on his friend's face. "Don't worry Gus. I'm sure someday soon, there will be plenty of situations for you to use your nerdy, useless information on."

"It's not useless Shawn! Safe Crackers Digest is a very popular online magazine! It has thousands of subscribers!"

Shawn shook his head as he opened up the safe. Inside the small storage area lay a single item: A police-issue revolver. Shawn reached in and carefully pulled it out. "It's Dad's old gun." He examined it carefully. "Figures that he would ruin a perfectly nice, sentimental picture by packing heat behind it," he muttered, more to himself than to Gus. He placed the gun back in the safe and closed it, giving the lock a few idle spins. "Well, that little secret compartment was a lot less interesting than I thought it would be."

Gus stepped back from the wall and took another look around. "There's nothing in here Shawn. We better move on to the kitchen, that's the only place we haven't looked."

Shawn sighed and reluctantly strolled into Henry's kitchen. He seriously doubted that, other than a few bananas and some chicken salad, they were going to find any clues in here. He ambled about the tile floor, he eyes combing over the counter, the sink, the table...the table.

Spread out on the table was an open newspaper. It had a label next to it from the evidence team, which meant that it must have been left there before the cops had arrived to search the house. Shawn stepped forward, his eyes glancing quickly over the articles. _All boring, _Shawn thought. _Typical stuff Dad would read._ He was about to move on when his eyes glanced a name in an article near the bottom of the page. He paused and bent down, not believing it at first. But there it was, plain as day, right in the middle of the third paragraph. _Former SBPD officer Henry Spencer..._

Shawn's eyes quickly shot up to the headline of the piece, and his jaw nearly fell off when he read the words in big, bold print:

**_Convicted Kidnapper Paroled After 20 Years in Prison_**

"GUS!!! COME OVER HERE!"

**To be continued...**


	4. The Key to Victory

A/N: So here's chapter four, I'm doing my best to update regularly, but it's been busy and I also don't want to neglect my original stuff too much, but I'm still determined to finish this story!

Disclaimer- I do not own Psych. For that matter, I don't own Play-Doh, The Italian Job, or Mark Wahlberg. There is an OC in this chapter, and he's mine, although I'm not exactly thrilled with him.

Keep in mind when reading some of the things Shawn and Gus do in this chapter that they are fictional characters, and that you are warned to never attempt these things on your own. Oh, and always wear a helmet. Now that we're done with the PSA, on with the show...

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**Out of Sight, Out of Psych?**

_**Chapter Four: The Key to Victory**_

"THIS is where he works? Shawn, is this some kind of bad joke?"

"Gus, I am most certainly NOT joking. But as long as we're here, and with your birthday in just a few days, why not knock out the celebration early?" Shawn eagerly pulled a blindfold out of his back pocket.

"NO SHAWN!"

Upon reading the article, Shawn and Gus had discovered that twenty years ago a man named Rick Hurley, who had been working as a school janitor, had abducted the school principal and held the man for ransom following a dispute over salary. At all of his previous parole hearings, Henry Spencer had appeared to personally speak against releasing Hurley. Since Henry had been the arresting officer in the case, he claimed to have intimate knowledge of Hurley's behavior following the incident and that the kidnapper had shown signs of "mental instability." However, after some "good behavior" and what Shawn figured were a few under-the-table favors, Hurley still managed to get off after his last parole hearing.

Now Hurley was on the streets, a free man, capable of doing whatever he wanted...and taking revenge on whomever he wanted. It was a perfect recipe for motive.

And by a strange coincidence, Hurley was now serving his parole working on the cleaning crew at the go-kart track.

"Fine Gus, be a no-fun field mouse!"

Gus sighed and shook his head, looking back at the entrance of the track that they both now stood poised outside. "I still don't get why you didn't just tell Juliet so they could arrest the guy."

"Because I need to be sure it's him Gus. If we're wrong, and the police are running around cuffing people for Dad's kidnapping, the guy who really did it might panic and..." Shawn bit his lip and let the sentence hang. "Plus, if Hurley isn't the guy and the cops arrest him, Lassiter will just stop looking, you know the way he is."

Gus nodded reluctantly. "So what's the plan?"

"We steal his key, make an impression of it, go make a copy, and break into his apartment to see what he's hiding."

"Shawn, how are you going to make a copy of this guy's key!?"

"Using this handy fun-sized cup of Play-Doh I picked up when we stopped so you could take a leak!" Shawn held up the palm-sized container in his hand with glee.

Gus stared at Shawn for a few minutes in exasperation. "Oh, fine, let's get his over with."

Rather than walk through the main entrance, Shawn insisted that they hop the fence around the side, so they would have easier access to the entire facility. After a slightly traumatic sequence in which Gus nearly tore his pants, the two managed to reach the ground safely. They lurked just outside the barrier of the track, watching one delighted kid after another zoom by.

"Gus, I'm just saying, it would be so cool if..." Shawn suddenly stopped in mid-sentence. "There he is."

"Where?"

"Over there, he's sweeping by the hot dog stand. I recognize his face from the paper."

And sure enough, there was Rick Hurley, rounding up old ketchup packets and used napkins off the ground by the concessions area. He looked disheveled, and his hair was long and unkempt. He was a very husky, tough-looking fellow, and Shawn was pretty sure he caught glances of prison tattoos underneath the cuff of his gray janitorial outfit. Shawn focused his vision and spotted keys hanging out of his back pocket.

"Okay, Gus, this needs to be fast. You go up and distract him, while I sneak up behind him and make the impression."

Gus nodded slightly, thinking to himself that this whole plan was well beyond insane. He strolled up to Hurley, while Shawn quietly and smoothly tried to position himself behind their main suspect. Gus approached him with a smile and said with a cheerful disposition, "Hi. I was wondering if you would be interested in being part of a special, breakthrough medical trial?"

Hurley glanced up from his work, giving Gus a rather dark and dirty look. "Do I look sick to ya weirdo?"

Gus gulped, declining to answer honestly. "Of course not sir, you're perfectly healthy! Which makes you the perfect candidate for this trial, which would compensate you...generously."

Hurley raised his eyebrows and straightened up. "I'm listening."

Shawn was crouched down, sneaking up slowly on Hurley from behind. _Dude, this guy has a huge butt, _Shawn thought to himself. Then he suddenly had to grab his nose, and nearly let out a groan that would have blown his cover. Hurley had just passed gas.

Several people were giving Shawn odd looks, but Hurley had not noticed. He was too wrapped up in Gus' enthralling description of a very complicated clinical trial involving the connection between sleeping disorders and athlete's foot. Shawn forced himself to tolerate the silent but deadly odor as he reached out and gently gripped the janitor's keys. He did not know which one was actually the key to Hurley's apartment, so he fanned the keys out and pressed all of them into the Play-Doh. Just as he was finishing, Hurley let another one rip. Shawn, unable to stand anymore, simply threw keys back up against the dirty pants of the paroled convict. This turned out to be a rather large mistake.

Rick Hurley looked behind him, trying to figure out what had hit him in the butt. "Hey! What are ya doin back thur, doofus!"

Shawn took one glance at Gus, and yelled "RUN!" The two took off, with a very angry Hurley following them, thinking that somehow, someway, Shawn had stolen something from him. Shawn and Gus leaped the barrier in front of them, and suddenly found themselves right in front of the boarding station where kids got into the karts. Shawn gripped Gus' shoulder in earnest. "The karts, Gus. It's the only way. This is _The Italian Job_, and we are both Mark Wahlberg!"

Gus grimaced, but when he glanced back and saw Hurley clambering over the barrier, he jumped for the nearest kart. "Hey, you can't cut in line!" yelled a kid about to board the kart. Shawn jumped in and squeezed behind Gus. "Sorry, family emergency." Gus hit the gas as Shawn held on tightly, while the employee at the boarding station yelled "Hey! Those guys don't have a helmet!"

Shawn and Gus sped off, leaving Hurley in the dust. Gus kept his eyes firmly on the road while yelling "This is a loop track! We have to go back towards him!"

"Oh, no we don't! Gus, brake up by the barrier here and we'll bail towards the fence!"

Gus was hitting the brakes, skidding towards a stop, when Shawn suddenly yanked the blindfold across his eyes.

"SHAWN!!!!!!!!!!!"

The kart crashed into the barrier. Gus swatted Shawn's hands away and glared back at his smirking passenger. Suddenly, they heard the distinct, hoarse sound of Hurley screaming from further back on the track, so they jumped out of the tiny kart and went over the barrier, charging towards the fence.

"Shawn, I'm going to kill you! I really am going to kill you!"

"Oh, don't even pretend that wasn't exhilarating!"

They clambered up the chain link fence, and coming down the other side Shawn lost his grip and came down hard on his right ankle. "Ow!" Gus glared at him, making it clear he would not offer help. "Oh fine, Gus, be a little girl about it. Let's just go!" They took off down the street, Shawn running with a bit of a limp, towards where Gus' car was parked. Just as they reached their blue escape vehicle, a police car showed up.

"Oh, this is great," Gus muttered.

"Relax dude. All they have on us right now is hijacking a go-kart and stealing Play-Doh. That's what, two minutes in prison?"

"You STOLE that Play-Doh?"

The car door opened up, and a stern-faced Lassiter leaned out. "Get in," he said firmly.

Shawn and Gus glanced at each other. "Ya know Lassie-face, if this could be done at another time, that would be..."

"Get in the car NOW."

Shawn and Gus scampered in obediently.

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Back at the station, Shawn could not help but notice a buzz in the air. Officers were scrambling around, everyone looked grim, hundreds of tasks and pone calls seemed to be happening at once. People had to yell to get orders across just five feet of the noisy room.

_What's all this about? A break in Dad's case? _Shawn wondered.

A stressed and distraught-looking Chief Vick strode out of her office and walked right up to Shawn and Gus. "Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, thank you for coming. There's been a change in the situation. I need all the help I can get now, so you two are back on this case."

"I thought it was too 'personal' for me?" Shawn said dryly, still a little bitter over the chief's earlier refusal.

Vick frowned disapprovingly. "It's personal for everyone in this station now, Mr. Spencer. We believe that this kidnapper was not just targeting your father. It appears this individual has a score to settle with the entire department."

"What makes you think that?" Gus asked.

Lassiter stepped forward, handing Shawn a plastic evidence bag containing a note. "This one was not sent to the station. It was slipped directly under my door earlier today, at my _home_." Lassiter paused and gulped a little, grimacing. "And so far...so far, it seems the statements made in the letter are...accurate."

Shawn looked down at the letter. He recognized the typed font from his father's ransom note. And when he read the message, he felt that pit that he had been carrying in his stomach for the last few days open up into a chasm.

_My demands have not been met._

_I have now taken Detective Juliet O'Hara. She is with Henry Spencer._

_Give me what I want soon, or I will strike again._

**To be continued...**


	5. Crisis Rising

A/N: Wow, what a great response to chapter four! I hope you all keep reading and enjoying!

First of all, while I do enjoy writing humor, you may notice that over the next couple chapters, as the situation gets more serious so will the tone of the story. That's just the way it's turning out. But I'm sure some more humorous situations will sneak in there before the end!

Also, I noticed that the one Psych forum we have seems to be more geared towards discussion of the actual show and whats going on in it, so I've decided to open up a second forum, dedicated solely to the discussion of writing Psych fics. Go on there to discuss ideas for stories, what you like to see in a Psych fic, and what problems and solutions you face writing fics with these characters. Psych is really a growing fanfic community, so I think we can help it continue to grow and improve with this forum! It's called "The Official Psych Writers' Corner". I've put some starter topics in there, but please jump in and start your own!

Bleh, I've already talked too much, let's get down to business!

Disclaimer- I don't own Psych.

* * *

**Out of Sight, Out of Psych?**

_**Chapter Five: Crisis Rising**_

Shawn stared at the letter, letting the new development gradually sink in. "Jules?" he whispered, his eyes searching up and down the words in disbelief.

Lassiter nodded stiffly, reaching into his jacket to withdraw another evidence bag. "And this," he said, his voice faint and strained, "was left just outside the door." Shawn stared at the bag, which contained Juliet's gun. Shawn knew there was no way she would have just left her weapon lying around...unless it had been taken from her.

Once Shawn had stared the gun for a few moments, Lassiter laid it gently down on the desk next to them and piped in again. "We've already been to her home, and it's practically untouched. We're still looking for evidence, but...we're trying to stay realistic."

Chief Vick held out a pair of folders to Shawn, which he accepted with a shaking hand. "These are profiles and records of both your father's and Detective O'Hara's police career. We're hoping you can get a reading off these files and perhaps find a connection between these two. We want to know why the kidnapper targeted them specifically, and what member of the department they might be going after next." Vick placed her hands on her hips and softened her tone to one more filled with concern."If you need any help, or any more information, we are always..."

"We'll be fine, Chief." Shawn said quickly, cutting her off as he stood up. "Let's go Gus," he snapped as he turned and walked out of the room with a brisk stride. Gus started to follow him.

"Mr. Guster!"

Gus paused, and turned to look back at the chief. "Yes?"

"You'll make sure he's okay?" Chief Vick asked, her voice hushed and her tone subdued.

Gus nodded. "I'll do what I can, Chief." He glanced at Lassiter, who nodded slightly, and then headed out the door to catch up to Shawn.

--------------------------------------------------

"It just doesn't make sense," Shawn muttered to himself, staring out the window of Gus' car. It had started to drizzle, and small specks of rain slapped against the glass.

Gus glanced over at him and focused back on the road. "You think we should tell them about Hurley?"

Shawn shook his head stiffly as he pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to focus. "Hurley has no motive for taking Jules. She wasn't the least bit involved in his case. Plus...he isn't the one behind this, he's too much of a brute."

Gus raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

"He's a sledgehammer, Gus. A big, stupid, 'punch first and ask questions later' kinda guy. You saw how he came after us at the track." Shawn let his hands fall into his lap in frustration. "Whoever did this is smooth. Under control. They move in and out without leaving any clues. Those letters? Precise, eloquent, and untraceable. Whoever did this is smart." Shawn stared at his palms and took a shuddering breath. "Smarter than any of us."

Gus did not speak for several minutes, trying to choose his words carefully. Finally, he chimed in. "Maybe we just need to sleep on it Shawn. Give it a rest, and we'll come up with something tomorrow."

Shawn shook his head. "You can go Gus, but drop me off at the Psych office."

Gus looked over at him. "Shawn..."

"Gus, trust me, I wouldn't sleep anyways. Now just drop me off up here."

Gus sighed as he slowed to a stop next to their humble office space. "Just don't burn yourself out, okay?"

Shawn did not answer, but just leaped out of the car while calling back "See ya tomorrow!" before slamming the door shut. He hurried up the steps to the office door, trying to stay out of the rain. Walking inside, he flipped on his desk lamp and plopped into his seat, laying out the two files before him. He flipped open one, then the other. He scanned through every word of information, trying to pull out something in common, some kind of connection that would have propelled a kidnapper to take both Henry _and_ Juliet. He read every line twice, analyzed every tangible detail, but he came up with nothing. Not a thing. He sighed and looked at the two packets before him, glancing from one to the other and trying to mentally untie the knot in his stomach.

On the one hand, there was Henry Spencer. With more than two decades of service, he had arguably the longest and most impressive arrest record of any cop in SBPD history. But as his eyes glazed over the page, Shawn could feel his mind wander from the facts before him. He started to think about the past. His focus lingered on the things he had said to his father. And the many, many things he _wished _he had said to his father. Why did both of them always have to be so stubborn? What stopped them from just dropping their differences and having things be...normal? Shawn had always blamed their strained relationship on Henry. Now, he was not as sure.

His eyes glanced back over to Juliet's file. Shawn did not have a strained relationship with Juliet, at least, not strained in the same way as with his father. There were not loads of things that he wanted to tell Juliet. No, there was just one thing, one rather important thing, that he had always put off. He figured there was always more time. And now, sitting here at his desk, there was no time. The closest he could get to her was this little photo that had been paper clipped to her data sheet. Her arrest record was much more modest than Henry Spencer's, largely because she had only recently been promoted to full detective status following her year in the junior detective ranks.

Shawn sighed, his fingers clenching his hair as he tried to mentally line up Henry and Juliet side-by-side, searching desperately for a common trend. But he found nothing. If anything, the two came from opposite ends of the spectrum. Old as opposed to young. Veteran as opposed to rookie. Male as opposed to female. There was no link.

But Shawn Spencer kept searching, his focus so unbroken that he did not even feel himself fade off into sleep.

--------------------------------------------------

Shawn awoke suddenly, his head jerking up off the desk. The paper in Juliet's file that his cheek had been pressed against stuck to his face a few seconds before falling off. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he glanced at the clock. 9:37 AM. _Gus should be here any minute_, Shawn thought as he got up from his desk, stretching. _Too bad all I have to show for my efforts is a big bag of nothing. _

As he half-walked, half-stumbled towards the espresso machine near the front of the office, he glanced around, sensing that something was out of place. His eyes scanned the room and zeroed in on a folded up piece of paper, slid just under the main door. Feeling a bit puzzled, Shawn bent down and grabbed the edge of the paper, gently pulling it out. He stood back up as he casually unfolded it.

And then his heart stopped.

_I have added Burton Guster to my collection._

_Come and get me, psychic._

Shawn dropped the note, letting it flutter and fly to the floor. He took a few steps back, staring at the piece of paper. And with each step, he could feel his whole world spinning out of control.

**To be continued...**


	6. A Distant Memory

A/N: Soooo you guys probably thought I had abandoned this story. I don't blame you. In my defense, I started college just after posting chapter five, so the transition process has been nuts. And obviously, now that I have schoolwork again, it's harder to just crank out chapters. So please be patient with me, I hope you all keep reading! This chapter's a little shorter, but I thought it was a necessary part of the story. I have outlined the rest of it, so I can tell you now that it will be exactly ten chapters long. So when you finish this, give yourself a pat on the back, you're more than halfway through!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Psych.

* * *

**Out of Sight, Out of Psych?**

_**Chapter Six: A Distant Memory**_

Shawn stared blankly out the window, his whole body numb with shock. His mind was reeling, his face flushed. He could barely muster a breath through the massive lump in his throat.

"_Come and get me, psychic."_

Shawn shook his head, feeling the words burn deep in his gut. How could he be so stupid? This was never about his father, or the SBPD. No, this had been about him, all along. How could he have missed it? The kidnapper had spelled it out, right in the first ransom note. _"I__f the Santa Barbara Police Department does not wish to lose one of its former officers, you will use every possible resource to find him."_

Shawn eased himself into a chair, his hands clasped around his head, trying to calm the thundering headache he felt settling in. All this time, he had thought the kidnapper had never made any demands. But now it was all too clear what the perpetrator had wanted since the beginning. Shawn wanted to slam his head into the wall for missing it.

_Every possible resource,_ he thought bitterly. _Including their psychic consultant._

Shawn closed his eyes tightly, wanting to just drown himself in blackness. But even with his lids shut, he still saw faces. Dad. Jules. And Gus, his very best friend, the first friend he ever had...at times, Gus had been the _only _friend he had. Not only that, but Gus had been so important in cracking every case they had ever solved. How could he save someone when he needed their help so badly?

The distraught fake psychic leaned back, letting his head hit the wall behind him. He could feel tears starting to well up a little bit in the corner of his eyes. He tried to fight them back, tried to call on all the toughness Henry Spencer had worked so hard to instill in him as a boy. But here they came, sliding down his cheeks. He was completely at a loss. Everyone close to him was gone, and he did not have even the slightest idea who was responsible or where he should be looking. The situation was hopeless.

Hopeless.

And as Shawn Spencer sat in his chair, feeling as though the world itself was about to end, a vision from many, many years before began to bubble to the surface of his mind...

--------------------------------------------------

_Santa Barbara, 1987._

"_Dad! Daaaaaad!"_

_Henry peered over his newspaper to see a very distressed nine-year-old pouting and biting his lip in frustration. "The lava won't come out of the volcano!"_

_Henry glanced back down to his paper without batting an eye. "Well, you must have to try something else."_

"_But I don't know how! How can I get this stupid science project to work when I don't know what I'm supposed to do!?"_

_Henry sighed, folding up the paper and setting it aside. "Listen, son. Everything in life isn't going to be handed to you on a silver platter. You can't just expect people to give you all the answers. Sometimes all you get are the questions. The answers are up to you to find."_

"_I can't do that myself!"_

_Henry leaned in closer, looking his only child right in the eyes. "Shawn, you may not always act like it, but you're a damn smart kid. You're capable of doing a lot more than you give yourself credit for. This is a challenge, and you can either step up now to the best of your ability and do something to be proud of, or you can quit. Now is that a hard choice to make?"_

_Shawn grunted, staring down at the rug while he shook his head. "No, sir." He glanced back up at his father. "But I don't even know where to start."_

_Henry leaned back and reached again for the paper. "Well, if everything is going wrong, square one is always a good place to start."_

_--------------------------------------------------_

Shawn rubbed his eyes, feeling the grogginess began to dry up with his tears. He took a deep breath, feeling the oxygen surge into his lungs, along with something else...determination.

He shot up out of his chair and slammed open the door, heading outside. He started towards Henry's house at a brisk walk. He needed to go back to where this mess had started and take another look. After a couple blocks he broke into a dead sprint, his heart pounding with a sense of urgency. His lungs ached but he barely noticed.

_Dad._

_Jules._

_Gus._

He would not let them down. He could not let them down.

**To be continued...**


	7. Square One

A/N: So have you ever gotten caught up with schoolwork, and you keep putting off certain other things just "one more day" and before you know it over a month has past and you still haven't updated? Well, I sure do. For those of you still reading after I've kept you waiting all this time, thank you sooooo much, I'm very sorry it has taken me so long, but I do have good news. I am on fall break now, so I have a little time away from school and should be done by next week! Thanks again to everyone who has stuck with this story and reviewed it and really encouraged me to finish it, you guys are awesome, and if you're just reading this for the first time now, I hope you enjoy! On with the show now, and stay tuned...in chapter eight, the kidnapper's identity will be revealed!

Disclaimer: I do not own Psych, but if I did, I would have more new episodes and not make us all wait for nearly four months.

* * *

**Out of Sight, Out of Psych?**

_**Chapter Seven: Square One**_

Shawn tucked in his shoulders and ducked down as he stepped through the door frame of Henry Spencer's home, taking care not to let his head snag against the police tape stretched across the entrance. His chest was heaving as he straightened back up. Here it was, here was the house were his father had been snatched from right under Shawn's nose. This was where it had all started, and if Shawn had anything to say about it, this would be where it ended.

The fake psychic stood for a moment, letting his breathing relax and his heartbeat slow. He had to focus, and being jumpy and nervous would throw off his concentration. Once he felt at ease, he prepared to take a second look...but he did not take a step forward. It was not necessary for Shawn to _physically _revisit every room in the house, when he already _remembered _every room of the house.

Shawn took a deep breath and closed his eyes, flipping through a quick mental montage of images that he had gathered when he and Gus had canvassed his area a few days ago. He was convinced that they had been so hung up on the Hurley angle after the first trip, that a second look would reveal something they had missed. But the only images that stood out from the rest were the same two as before: the gun, and the newspaper headline.

Shawn opened his eyes and snorted in frustration. He stiffly walked down to the living room, a tense knot beginning to tie itself into the back of his neck. He did not have time for this. Shawn could feel the clock ticking down to the point of no return for Henry...for Juliet...for Gus...but what worried him even more was that he had no real idea when that clock ran out. For all Shawn knew, time was already up, he could already be too late...

He shook his head firmly, clenching his fists a bit as he walked up to the picture of Henry teaching him to ride a bike. _They're alive. They're all alive. If they weren't...I would feel it if they weren't. _Shawn felt a chill run down his spine as he reached out and gently eased the picture off the wall. He cradled it almost like a newborn child, gently laying it down on the coffee table. He gave the wall safe lock a few almost unconscious spins, and the door obediently clicked and eased open with a nudge from his finger. Henry's police-issue pistol still sat in the safe, exactly where Shawn had left it. As he pulled it out gently, he could not help but wonder how many times Henry Spencer had actually fired the weapon. Sure, he must have pulled it out thousands of times, but how many of them had he actually followed up with a shot?

Shawn popped the clip out and checked it. There was a single bullet in the gun. That seemed about right. His father would never leave himself in a position to be completely unarmed, but he probably would not see the need to load up his gun with a full clip. After all, this was a good part of town with barely a whisper of crime...normally. Unfortunately, nothing about the past few days had been normal. Shawn sighed as he slipped the ammo back in. Just like last time, this was a dead end. Even if Henry had realized he was in danger, he obviously did not have enough time to make it into the living room, open the safe, retrieve the gun, and fire on his attacker. Shawn gave the small safe a frustrated smack as he slammed the door close, but this time, he had not put the pistol back. Instead, he checked the safety and slipped it into his back jeans pocket. With his shadowy enemy's whereabouts still unknown, he figured that a little extra security might come in handy.

Shawn wandered from the living room into the kitchen. A copy of the _Santa Barbara Sun _was still spread across the table, still opened up to the article on Hurley's probation. This was the only lead Shawn and Gus had found, and it had taken them straight to a dead end. Shawn leaned over the kitchen table, his sweaty palms pressing into the thin, inky paper. There had to be something here, something that could give him some clue, some hint, some nudge in the right direction. He sighed and stared blankly at the sheets of printed news. _Who the hell am I kidding here? What's so special about the Sun? What am I going to find that..._

Wait.

The _Sun?_

Shawn shut his eyes tight and focused on the last time he had seen his father reading the paper. And the time before that. And the time before that.

Henry Spencer had never, not once in his life, picked up a copy of the _Sun. _He was an almost religious reader of the _Santa Barbara Times._ Which meant this was not his paper.

Shawn felt his heart jump a bit. If the paper did not belong to his father, it must have been brought it by someone else...and as far as anyone knew, the only other person who could have been in Henry's house that day was the kidnapper. This could be a huge clue, and Shawn knew one way to make sure. He wildly started flipping through pages, past an article about skyrocketing gas prices...a plan to renovate the community center...a wealthy Santa Barbara family that just sold their lakeside cottage...and finally, what Shawn had been looking for: the crossword puzzle.

Henry Spencer had done the crossword puzzle every morning for as long as Shawn could remember, and he always filled it out with lowercase i's. Shawn felt a rise of excitement as he saw a half-completed crossword with capital I's, and a handwriting style that was decidedly non-Spencer in nature. As a matter of fact, as Shawn's eyes scanned over an "A" with strange little hitch on the right side and a "D" that had a similar hitch in the bottom left corner, he could not help but get the feeling he had seen that writing before...a long, long time ago.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. _Come on, Shawn_. He tried to search his mind, tried to place it, wherever it was he recognized that strange A and D...but come on, how was he supposed to place this writing? He probably glanced it, just one time years ago, and now he was trying to make a handwriting match to the kidnapper based on two letters? Sure, he had a photographic memory, but nobody was _that _good.

_You have to be that good! This could be their only chance!_

Shawn shut his eyes so tight it hurt. He pressed his fingers hard into his temples, practically squeezing in his skull. He focused, his mind flipping through all kinds of images of letters, numbers, words, sentences...

_Dad._

Scenes flew by like a visual Rolodex on high speed. He was growing almost dizzy from the onslaught of memories, but he stayed level, kept his concentration...

_Jules._

He felt his memory reaching back weeks...months...over a year...

_Gus._

There! There it was! Leaning over a desk, just a couple years ago, he had glanced it written on a paper...and he knew exactly where to find it. And suddenly, he saw everything fall into place, coming together to form a bright, golden arrow pointing straight down the solution to this whole puzzle. He quickly flipped open his phone and punched up Lassiter on speed dial. He listened to the ring, his feet bouncing in tension.

"_Lassiter."_

"Lassy! I know who the kidnapper is!"

"_Spencer? How in the hell..."_

Shawn glanced back down at the paper and felt his heart nearly jump out of his throat. "And...and...I think I know where everyone's been taken!"

**To be continued...**


	8. Unmasked

A/N: SPOILER ALERT!!! The following chapter contains spoilers for the "Pilot" episode of Psych. There will also be a few more spoilers from the Pilot in chapter nine. Just giving you all the heads up.

Disclaimer: I have never owned and will never in the future own Psych.

* * *

**Out of Sight, Out of Psych?**

_**Chapter Eight: Unmasked**_

Shawn crept down the hill, careful not to slip on the slightly damp leaves that matted the forest floor. He lifted his feet over a few raised tree roots, trying to move as silently as possible. He glanced back up at the road where he had parked his motorcycle, just barely able to glimpse the bike through the tree trunks heavily dotted along the slope. His breath was shallow and layered with a nervous shudder, but he was doing everything he could to keep his body under control. After all, he did not want to drop the pineapple.

Now, it may seem ridiculous that Shawn, in this very serious rescue mission, had decided to bring along a pineapple. He had actually debated whether or not to bring it along, because he could somehow guess that Gus, Juliet, and Henry would be less than thrilled when he burst in prepared to save the day with a spiny Hawaiian fruit. However, Shawn did in fact have a practical purpose to his prickly present. He felt it was unlikely the three of them had gotten sustainable food over the past several days, and were probably deprived of water too. Shawn distinctly recalled from one of his father's many lectures over the past twenty years that in any kind of hostage situation, the best meal to get into a rescued captive right away was fruit, due to the high water concentration in this particular food group. Shawn had scoured over his apartment before departing, trying to find some delicious fruity treats to bring for his kidnapped comrades. However, being a true pineapple enthusiast, there was only one fruit he could find: the "yellow jewel of the islands", as he fondly referred to it. So while it may have seemed like a joke, Shawn was confident that at least his father would understand the gesture.

Granted, the large purple ribbon he had tied around it may have made it harder to take seriously, but Gus' birthday was just two days away now, and Shawn felt the need to put him in the proper birthday spirit. And at the very least, he thought Juliet would find it pretty.

He tenderly cradled the pineapple in his left arm, as his free hand pulled aside a bundle of branches blocking his vision. And he could see it, just around the curve of the lake: the Orso family cabin. This was not Shawn's first visit to the little lakeside abode, and oddly enough, it had been a kidnapping case that had brought him here the first time. He could still recall every detail of that case, his very first, and how Camden McCallum had faked his own kidnapping and bunkered down in this secluded spot with his best friend, Malcolm Orso.

Shawn began to trudge closer to the cabin, keeping his head low and trying to stay hidden among bushes and low-hanging branches. As he crept along, he felt a squish and a sinking feeling beneath his right foot, and nearly tumbled over in a loss of balance. He glanced down and saw his shoe half-submerged in mud, and with a disgruntled snort, struggled to wrench it out. With an abrupt yank of his leg, his foot came shooting out of the muck, and the sudden momentum knocked him right on his butt.

Shawn Spencer groaned, his pride a little bruised but his will not yet defeated. He forced himself to his feet, made sure the pineapple was secure, and continued to close in on the cabin, hoping he had not been spotted. He was not really concerned about the Orso family calling the cops on him; by all accounts, the Orsos had not been here since their son was murdered in the small house. In fact, they had recently sold the cabin in an attempt to rid themselves of the memories it harbored.

Shawn was willing to bet he knew who had gotten their hands on the little getaway from civilization, and it was this person whose wary eyes he was attempting to avoid. As he reached the edge of the clearing where the cabin sat, Shawn silently wished that Lassiter would hurry up and confirm his suspicions so he could get his standard-operating-procedure ass out here with reinforcements. Despite Lassiter's warnings, Shawn had not been willing to wait for police backup. But now, crouched among the brambles, the doorway of the cabin less than thirty yards away, he would not have said no to a few uniforms behind him.

Shawn sighed, biting his lip a little bit. He knew what he was up against, and if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that his opponent knew damn well how to shoot. He could not deny that, deep down, he was scared. No, terrified. Not just of what would happen to him, but what may have already happened to the people on the other side of that cabin door. What if he was too late? What if the kidnapper had already run out of patience? He could not help but think about the scene he had witnessed the last time he had entered the cabin, could not help but wonder if history would repeat itself...

Shawn shook his head and raised himself to his full height, doing his best to hold his head high. He pushed all the negative thoughts to the back of his mind, and blocked off everything in the world except for the thirty yards between him and the door of that cabin. He stared straight down this tunnel of vision, and took a deep breath. He was going to finish this now, for Henry, for Juliet, and for Gus. His chest swelling with determination, he took a step forward.

"Not so fast, Shawn."

The voice was all to familiar to him as he froze up. He cursed silently, annoyed that while he was so focused on what was ahead of him, his enemy had caught him from behind. Slowly, he turned around, putting on a slightly showy grin, and said with a cheery tone, "Detective! Long time, no see."

Detective Lucinda Barry stepped out from the bushes, her gun trained on Shawn, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Oh, and we have _so _much catching up to do, Mr. Spencer."

**To be continued...**

* * *

A/N: For those of you who just said, "Lucinda who?", think "Lassie's partner before Juliet" (I tried to link her article on Wikipedia, but the format won't work on here...she's still on there if you search "Lucinda Barry"). 


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